


The Lost Prince

by Magpies_Wings



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad English, Bullying, During Canon, Friendship, Friendship/Love, I'm Bad At Summaries, Imprisonment, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Thor: The Dark World, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpies_Wings/pseuds/Magpies_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fandral faces a difficult choice. He remembers what led him to this moment, his friendship with Loki and the subsequent loss.</p><p>Set before, during and after Thor, before Thor 2.<br/>Fandral's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong to their rightful owner.
> 
> Don't take it too seriously, I wrote this because my mind is full of these stories and I need to get rid of them ;)
> 
> It may be Out of Character, too. If you think I should add it to the tags, please, let me know.
> 
> Also, english is not my mother tongue and it is unbeta'd, so I'm sorry about the tenses, grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes and mistakes in general.

He had never been in this part of the palace before. It was quiet here, strangely so. Not even guards stood next to the massive golden door, leading into the dungeon with cells, where the murders and thieves were held. No one was patrolling the hall. 

There was no sound except his ragged breathing caused by the intrusive cold, seeping under his armour cooling his body. He was fully armed, his hand was convulsively clenching around the hilt of his sword, ready to use it in case the guards showed up unexpectedly. He was nervous, but no one would suspect Fandral the Dashing of treason.

He stood there unmoving, thinking of his next steps. If he walked in, his fate was clear. If he decided to turn around and walk out of here, to never come back, he would seal the other’s fate. He held fates of two men in his hands and didn’t know what to do with them.

He took a deep breath, a few of them actually, reached for the door and pushed them open.

~°~

Fandral had met Loki months before he met Thor. While Thor spent his time playing with his own friends in the royal gardens, Loki, little as he was, preferred roaming the streets of Asgard.

Fandral didn’t belong to royal court, he wasn’t allowed into the palace. He wasn’t of noble birth, came from poor family and acted accordingly.

The palace of Asgard could be seen from all and every point of the surrounding town. The only moments though, when Fandral got close enough to it, were during the gatherings of the crowds during the times of joy and grief.

He wasn’t yet born when Frigga the Queen gave Asgard its first prince. He heard stories of the prince all his life. From common people and his parents, telling of his glory he would bring, of his strength and ability in swordsmanship.

When Loki was born, the little prince, whose birth symbolized hope and end of the horrible war, no one expected it. Fandral was three years old and he vaguely remembered the surprise of the crowd gathered on the square in front of the palace and later the excited jubilation when Odin declared the end of the war and the birth of his second son. Everyone expected the second son to shine as bright as the firstborn. Surely he would, he was Frigga and Odin’s son after all.

The princes meant nothing to the blond boy. He enjoyed the celebrations just like everyone else did, even though he may not have understood what they were for.

-

The first time he met the youngest prince face to face was when he was seven years old and the prince was four. The little boy was wandering the streets alone, no supervisors around, ignored for his plain clothes. The raven haired child didn’t seem lost, but the older boy approached him anyway.

“Are you lost?” asked him and the smaller boy looked at him with beaming smile. There were not many dark haired Æsir. To add to his unusual look, he had exceptionally radiant green eyes.

“Did you see a dragon?” inquired the little boy, eyes full of hope.

Fandral paused in surprise, “Where’s your mamma?” the boy then turned towards the high towers of the palace and pointed at the highest one with his small finger. The blond boy chuckled. He took the stranger by the little hand, which squeezed tightly his in return and didn’t let go.

The older child led him to a place he knew the patrol usually was; perhaps they would know what to do with his lost friend. The little boy walked obediently with him, no doubt, no questions, he trusted him with his life. “What’s your name?” wondered the blond boy.

“Loki.”

“Just like our prince,” laughed Fandral and Loki excitedly nodded and giggled.

They reached the guards who were looking rather alarmed, but when they saw the approaching boys, the black haired one primarily, they visibly relaxed.

“Prince Loki, where have you been?” scolded him one as he run for the little prince. He tried to hoist him up in his arms, but had to kneel when the prince refused to let go of his new friend’s hand. The guard was kneeling before them and spoke to both of  
them. Fandral stood in shock. His Loki was the prince Loki.

“We are in your debt,” to Fandral, and “You’ll see your friend again,” to Loki. The little hand let go of his. The blond boy noticed the sad expression, eyes cast down and the pouting Loki was sporting.

Surprised at the prince’s honest disappointment, Fandral smiled at him reassuringly and waved his hand at him. Loki answered immediately with his own waving.

-

The guards stopped bothering to look for the prince after some time.

No matter where he was, Loki somehow always managed to find Fandral and after a few hours spent together, the older boy would bring the little prince home.

Month later, it was Fandral who stood in front of the palace and demanded for his little friend to be let out to play. 

Loki showed him his room, colored in green, darker shade than his eyes were. He talked excitedly about his books, showed him his drawings. Fandral always enjoyed going through them. In some, Fandral stood next to Loki, sometimes, they were holding hands, in others was the prince with his mother Queen, and in many was drawn Loki’s older brother, prince Thor. Thor always looked regally, pictured with dragons and other beasts, sword in his hands, proud and self-confident. Loki adored him; he was able to talk about him for hours to no end.

Loki always took Fandral by the hand. Fandral was his and Loki had no intentions of sharing him with anyone.

~°~

When it was time to start with training, Loki interceded for his older friend and so Fandral was allowed to train with the noble children.

He was immensely grateful for this chance. After all, training with the famous god Tyr was on a whole different level than with the trainer common people had in disposal.

It was the first time he met the older prince and also the last time he belonged purely to Loki.

Although he was perceived as nothing more than filth by the other children, with time they took him in and treated him as equal. Unlike Loki. Fandral showed natural ability in swordsmanship and was acknowledged for it. Everyone would want to fight with him and he would always win.

On the other hand, swords held no love for Loki, when they started to train with real ones, sharpened ones, he’d oftentimes cut himself. Nor close combats were his thing. He improved knife throwing, archery and fighting with a spear. He was made laugh on for cowardice exactly because of keeping distance between himself and his opponents and incredibly fast dodging blows, hits and punches. It was just insignificant jeers at the start. 

In such cases, Fandral was there, right next to Loki, standing up for him. The children stopped for a while, they didn’t even cast a wry look at the prince.

When Loki perfected his spell casting and preferred magic in combats in general, the jeers turned to spiteful remarks and later on came to physical shoving that oftentimes ended with Loki on the ground, bruises hidden under all the rich layers of his clothes.  
Loki started losing Fandral. It wasn’t obvious at first sight. Not even Fandral noticed. So the prince didn’t worry. He practiced his magic and mastered what a boy of his age shouldn’t know about. After the childish pranks turned into more cruel ones, no one dared to touch him and the remarks and jeers turned into slanders behind his back.

Fandral found he had more in common with Thor and became good friends, spent more time together with the gang of Thor, Sif, Hogun and Volstagg. Loki associated with them all the time. He was sticking to Fandral and beaming at his older brother. The endless admiration kept going.

Fandral enjoyed his little friend’s company and if the others were annoyed at Loki’s presence, they didn’t show it. Except they did.

~°~

“Watch out!” screamed the teenage raven-haired prince, just in time for Fandral to duck, when a large scaled tail whizzed where his head had been not a second ago. He looked gratefully to the prince.

Loki looked angry, contrary to all participants of the quest, who all seemed to be enjoying the battle, smiles adorning their faces. Clanking of weapons and roars of the winged beasts were heard for miles around.

Fandral couldn’t recall the last time he had seen the young prince’s smile, so he ran over to him with a mission to make him conjure one.

“Cheer up a little, looking grim is Hogun’s job!” he was happy, the rush of the battle making him reckless and he laughed at the prince.

“Of course none of you would take this seriously,” muttered Loki while deflecting strong strikes of one of the mighty beasts. Fandral laughed at that and joined him in attacking; his back to Loki’s when the monsters surrounded them. They must have come across a nest; there were usually two to three per a hunt.

A thundering laugh was heard from the other side of the clearing, and everyone turned involuntary at the source of the continuing laugh. They spotted Thor and a chopped off, bloody head of one of the dragons on the ground near him.

Fandral heard a snigger beside him, but before he could beamingly turn to the prince, he heard a sudden gasp. He turned to Loki to see that one of the thorns on the tails had torn the prince’s armor. The younger man was visibly bleeding with startling speed. 

Fandral grabbed Loki and pushed him harshly behind himself. Due to his carelessness, he missed a second beast heading his way and so Fandral had to face both of them.

Behind him, Loki was bent in half, his hand going to his abdomen where the wound was, trying to stop the bleeding. 

The blond man didn’t remember much of what happened next. Though, he could never forget the sharp pain when one of the thorns pierced his abdomen. He honestly thought he died that instant. A sharp cry of his name in panicked voice told him otherwise, and when the green warm glow surrounded him, he felt safe.

When he woke, two days later according to Loki, he was laid down on a bed in infirmary and Loki was sitting next to him on seemingly uncomfortable wooden stool, smiling after a long time. Loki was well; the blond warrior felt astonishing relief at that.  
Fandral also seemed alive and somewhat healed and he knew it was Loki’s and only Loki’s merit. 

He was about to express his gratitude when Thor all but burst into the room, Loki jumped on his stool, and then their friends followed behind Thor. All the ‘thank you’s vanished from his mind. He never noticed Loki sneaking out of the infirmary. 

~°~

By the time they reached maturity, Loki did his best to avoid their little gang. He was spending his time in the royal library with his head buried in a book, or on quests of his own all around the nine realms. 

The only times Fandral really saw Loki were at the trainings and on hunts where, by the way, Loki always beat Fandral.

They were older now and not so good friends. Friends… Were they still friends? The blond didn’t think he even knew this Loki anymore. This Loki was bitter, his innocent pranks turned to vicious with purpose to hurt. And hurt they did. That one time he cut Sif’s beautiful golden hair? Yeah, no one bought it was the fae.

Perhaps Fandral should have noticed back then, maybe there was something he could have done then. Though, perhaps he had noticed. 

However he did nothing to stop the spreading rumors, and the innuendos about Loki’s masculinity, about his origin (“He is a bastard, there is no way Odin the Allfather could have fathered such a week son.”). The stories floated around the tables on great feasts, and no one tried to stop them, no one wanted them to. What more, Fandral found himself laughing at Loki just as much as the others did. 

The blond man spread the tales of his valour and bravery, the stories of the Warriors Three, during the nights when two beauties rested in his arms and a crowd of more gathered around him. Loki’s deeds were not mentioned in those stories and Loki himself appeared in the background, unimportant character.

~°~

At Thor’s big day, his coronation, Loki acted rather strangely. Fandral saw Loki casting opened smiles at Thor, looking proud at his brother. But when he thought no one was watching, his mask slipped and prince’s gaze turned distant, hateful even, minutely.

They were in Jötunheim and Loki once again saved his life. He did so many times before. Fandral saw the prince having a close call few times, but he always got out thanks to his cunning and illusions. The blond warrior was injured and it was that moment, Loki chose to call for his brother. _Thor, we must go!_ he screamed.

Asgard lost its youngest prince that day.

-

Fandral learnt later that Loki was the reason he was alive once again. He had told the guard where they were heading. Without him, Fandral would be resting in Valhalla.

The last time the warrior was supposed to see Loki was in the throne room, standing regal as ever. What an unexpected sight was it! What shock and despite all the unfortunate events leading to this moment, Fandral felt pride rising in his chest. 

His Loki was a king. The King. However Loki’s look didn’t match the look of a new king the warrior always imagined he’d have acceding to the throne. 

Loki’s smile, more like a smirk, was smug, twisted and wicked. And Fandral didn’t know what to do. All he could do was observe the prince, stare at him and stop Sif from doing something stupid, and of course, leave. Perhaps he could have stayed, should have asked directly. He didn’t think that Loki would be honest with him after so many years of lying and mischief making. 

So that was the last time he had seen him. They had betrayed King Loki, helped one prince at the expense of another.

Fandral hadn’t seen Loki falling (jumping) from the shattered rainbow bridge. He was grateful now. On the other hand, if he had been there, he could have done something to stop him.

Odin announced the horrid news. Loki fell, trying to stop the Jötun intruders, yada, yada. Thor had told them the truth, more terrifying than the lie Odin spread.

The golden prince was the first, actually, who told them about Loki’s death. Fandral couldn’t believe it, he refused. 

The warrior looked at Thor, waiting for him to crack a smile in sign for this to be a cruel joke. Thor looked awful, though, it was obvious he meant every word.

It didn’t matter what Loki did. He was gone.

Gone.

Gone as dead.

Dead.

Fandral turned on his heels abruptly and hurried away from the room. Air. He needed the air.

Oh Gods.

His feet led him into a rarely used garden, where he himself had been led by a little black haired boy long ago. He struggled for breath, tears rushed into his eyes and he tried his damnedest to calm himself.

He’d never see him again, those emerald sharp eyes that used to smile at him, or the crooked smile, smirk to all, but honest just for him.

He was heaving.

God, why did it hurt?

__

Why does it hurt so much?

__

~°~

Fandral learnt about Loki’s survival together with everybody else. Immense relief filled his heart in crushing waves.

He demanded to be sent to Midgard together with Thor, but Odin didn’t have enough power for them both.

There was nothing left to do but wait patiently thinking and daydreaming about Loki. He had been gone for a long time and no one anticipated his survival until now. He was alive. Yet he had fallen, had been falling through the abyss. For how long had he been falling? Where had he landed?

Fanral wasn’t there to see it when Loki was hauled to Asgard, muzzled and chained like a common prisoner. They had dragged the fallen prince to the throne room, where he was forced to kneel before them all ‒ the king and his council as a matter of priority. The blond man had heard Frigga was present and so was Thor.

Thor told his friends later what had happened on Midgard, although he was been reluctant in sharing these information as he himself was clearly uncomfortable with this whole situation. Thor had set off to Midgard full of anger, but his eyes shone full of hope for his little brother. He stood before them now broken.

Loki was lost to all.

~°~

Death penalty?! How Fandral longed to cry out in anger to call them all names they deserved. Oh how much he wanted! It would serve him nothing. He looked from the Allfather to Thor, unbelieving. Thor stood defeated, head lowered, eyes closed shut in attempt to shut out the world. 

It wasn’t real. Asgard wouldn’t kill its prince, would it? _Odin_ wouldn’t kill his son! Or would he? Fandral clenched his fists, the nails of his fingertips dug to his palms, tearing the skin and he felt them dampen in blood.

Loki was condemned to death, without fair trial, in front of Asgard’s people, so informally as if it were everyday matter. Loki wasn’t even present. Had he been informed? Did anyone tell him or will he be led out of his cell, unsuspecting, to be executed before the eyes of all people like common criminal?

Nobody used the title ‘prince’ since Loki returned.

He will not stand for this! His heart hammered in his chest, whether from excitement or in fear he didn’t know.

Fandral was a respected member of Asgardian community and what he was about to do would cost him everything.

He set off towards the palace and the cells nonetheless.

~°~

What now? He was standing in front of a glass cell, ignored by the tired-looking person inside, and struggled to find something to say. Loki didn’t take note of him. The fallen prince sat on the floor, back to the wall, head fallen back, those emerald eyes closed. He looked peaceful. Maybe he was sleeping. 

“Loki?” Fandral dared to disturb the silence. Loki sighed and Fandral knew he was awake.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Loki’s face contorted in anger and gave Fandral a look full of hate. He didn’t say anything. The prince looked exhausted. Why he looked exhausted after days spent in dungeon doing nothing was beyond him.

Fandral refused to look in his eyes. “You were sentenced to death.” Loki didn’t let known whether it was news to him. If looks could kill, the blond would be long dead. Loki’s intense gaze dug under his skin. The warrior gathered up his courage and linked their gazes. 

“I don’t want that,” he almost whispered, yet proud at himself that his voice didn’t shake or broke. “That’s why I’m here.”

Loki’s anger dimmed a fraction, instead he looked doubtful. Perhaps he was just pretended it, he may start laughing at him in a moment and send him to a place sun never shined.

Loki’s hoarse voice pierced through the uncomfortable silence, just as Fandral’s did before: “Why would you care?” questioned almost disinterestedly.

“Because you’re my f‒” Fandral started but had not the chance to finish.

“Don’t call me your friend!” this Loki was different from the Loki he used to know. This one didn’t have his emotions under control, considering his outburst. The God of Mischief clenched his hands into fists and continued more calm. “I may have thought of you as a friend, but that was a long time ago. I have been blind, blinded by your charm as everyone else. Liars, that’s what we are. You, and I. We lied to each other.” He took a break to take a breath. “And look where it took us,” muttered.

“You are my friend.”

“I was never your friend,” growled the prince. Fandral thought about it for a moment.

“No, you’re right. You were never just a friend to me. You were more of a brother to me when we first met. And later…” the blond fell silent.

“It was a lie, all of it. My whole life, existence is one fat, ugly lie.” Fandral knew very well what he was talking about. Thor told his closest friends about Loki’s true heritance.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Fandral said firmly. “I want to give you this chance. But you need to know, what that means. I’d be taking chances with you, too. I’d put myself in danger for you. When I let you go and you cross me and run away, it will be my head outside the palace, impaled on a spike, instead of yours. My fate would be in your hands, just like mine have yours.”

Loki laughed mockingly. “And why would you do that? Why would you risk your life for a treacherous man?”

“Because I’ve lost you twice already and I refuse to go through it ever again.”

The mockery ceased and disappeared from Loki’s face completely and a gloomy one rose instead. Fandral remembered this look, he used to see it every time someone managed to get under Loki’s carefully built mask of indifference, every time someone had hurt him and no one stood up for him. 

“Thor said,” the prince gulped, pondering whether to continue, and decided to start over. “Thor said, you mourned my presumed death.”

Piercing, acute pain hit Fandral’s chest hard, his heart clenched. Had Thor noticed? Fandral diverted his sight.

“You have no idea,” the blond started and snorted, trying to keep a level head. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like, to sit at a feast, celebrating the passage of your soul to the land of dead, to laugh at dull jokes remembering your pranks, when all I wanted was to leave and never return.” The warrior squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears gathering there and took a few calming breaths. “Thor left as soon as it was possible, to not offend, but I stayed. I pretended to be alright. We celebrated your name and deeds after all!” the continued with barred teeth, “And I knew it wasn’t alright! Because I knew what your last act was!” he looked directly at Loki and demanding a reaction. None came.

“You. Let. Go.”

“I was pushed,” muttered Loki, but it was clear he didn’t believe it.

“You let go, how could you?!” Loki averted his gaze and let his head fall back against the wall.

A silence set in, Fandral calmed and Loki continued ignoring him.

“I am willing to give you a second chance, but you must be willing to take it. You need to want to live. And you have to give a second chance to me.” Loki peeked at him surprised. “I know how much I’ve disappointed you, Loki. I wasn’t there for you when you  
needed it; I left you when I should have stood by your side. I am really sorry and I promise you, if you give me another chance, I will never hurt you again.” Loki’s look ‘Yeah, right’ spoke volumes. The prince didn’t trust him and so closed his eyes, evident sign, that he expected Fandral to change his mind and leave.

_“I trust you,” uttered quietly Fandral._

_Loki heard a metal sound of the door opening, then clicking of heavy footsteps on the floor as Fandral neared him. Fool. He left the door open and surely, the dagger tucked behind his belt was unprotected. If he acted quickly, he may get out of there in a flash._

_Fandral would get what he deserved._

_Loki stiffened when he felt Fandral’s lips touching the top of his head. “I trust you,” he whispered into his hair. With eyes wide open, Loki chanced a glance up at the man, who was smiling gently at him._

Loki chuckled. It was so beautiful sound. Oh, why did he ever leave him?

“You know,” Loki chuckled, “I almost kissed you once.” Fandral blinked in shock. “What? When was that?” How could have he missed that?

“At your name’s day. You were eighteen then.”

“I don’t remember much of the celebration.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You were incredibly drunk, more so than Thor. I was too,” he laughed. “I wasn’t allowed to drink by then and you sneaked a bottle of mead for me anyway.” Fandral laughed heartily. “We talked a lot, just a drunk men chatter. I remember how much I admired your lips.” He blushed! Loki blushed at the thought of Fandral’s lips on his. “I leaned toward,” Fandral’s lips parted unconsciously, his mouth was dry, “and then the wretched whore interrupted us. She got all your attention.” His smile faded away and his eyes glazed over. “I’ve never tried again.”

“Perhaps you should have.” The dubious look made Fandral take a deep breath and pull away. 

“You’d really do it, though? You’d run away with me?”

“I will, if that is what you wish.”

“So you’d give up your life? Your friends? Your whores, your name? You would no longer be Fandral the Dashing, you’d become Fandral the Betrayer, perhaps even Fandral the Oathbreaker. No whore would lie with you.” Did Loki doubt him? 

“I don’t need them. I don’t want them.” Fandral’s hand touched Loki’s cheek and caressed it. Loki looked anywhere but at the man in crouching in front of him. 

“We’d be persecuted, hunted. For the rest of our lives even.”

“Aye, I’d do it for you.” His other hand reached for Loki’s chin and lifted it, so he could look into those beautiful eyes. All Fandral saw in them was hope and he himself hoped that perhaps something more, too. The prince didn’t fake it.

The blond leaned to Loki and captured his lips. The kiss was sweet and short, and yet to them it meant everything.

When they parted, Fandral rested his forehead on Loki’s, but pulled away when he heard heart-rending sob escaping Loki’s throat. 

Loki was smiling widely. The warrior pulled Loki into his arms and embraced him tightly when he wouldn’t stop sobbing. He rocked him, trying to soothe him, whispering comforting promises. “All will be well. We’ll leave together and you will be with me. I will not leave you. I will never leave you. You are going to be alright, we will be safe, no one will hurt us, and I will protect you.”

When Loki’s sobs reduced, Fandral took his hand, pulled him up from the floor and led him towards the metal door of the cell. They walked out without a problem. The cell was constructed specifically for Loki. He wasn’t able to open the door, but leave it open for him and he could walk in and out how he desired. 

The prince didn’t let go of Fandral’s hand, not even when they stood in front of the massive golden door leading out to the palace halls and to their freedom.

“There are guards behind these doors. Are you sure?” he asked Loki with a smile, because he knew the answer, and squeezed his hand. Loki returned his smile and squeezed back. 

“This is what I want.”

So they opened the door, Fandral with unsheathed sword and Loki holding Fandral’s dagger and spells at hand.


End file.
